Brunt harasses the transcriber! Cruroar yells about movies! The DM briefly sums up the previous session quickly, with Tasha helpfully editorializing the entire way.

Brunt: Dear dead guys. The only holes in the ground you will occupy are your graves. Die.
Cruroar: Get your turns ready, cleric!
Tasha: Most of my turns are being used up on my constant casts.
Cruroar: We’re gonna constant-cast you some fucking magical pants.
Normilan: ‘Cuz you about to shit them drawers!
DM: The next morning finds Prince Aundon saddling up his horse, apparently ready for travel.
Tasha: ‘I’m getting’ the fuck out of here!’
Normilan: ‘Peace, bitcheeees!’
Cruroar: I’m telling you right now, DM. If that kid dies anywhere on my watch, I’m getting up from the table and sitting on that couch, because Cruroar is dead. He’s dead. He’s dead! He’s gonna be taken out by King Maximo’s fucking C6 agents, whatever you want to call them. By the way, no one every buy orange soda. You know how tempting that shit is? Every time I open the fridge, I just hear a small voice. “Come on, Cruroar. Just one orange soda. No one will notice. Normilan isn’t here.” Normilan doesn’t care! Why are you talking like this?!
DM: After his horse is saddled, he seeks you out, Cruroar.

The prince routinely informs Cruroar that he’s off to the front and will send messages back. He then rides off, leaving Cruroar to anticipate the final construction of his castle.

Cruroar: Ledger, did you liquidate all assets? TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH WE GO!

For some reason, they remember the hurricane game with questionable fondness. The weather turns worse as the day passes, at last becoming rain as night falls.

Normilan: The sky opens up, like goatse.
DM: It’s not a warlock summoning portal.

The DM and Cruroar debate whether or not he’s developed the fishery yet. The next morning a messenger reports that a battle occurred in the dark of the night, with a clean victory for the superior numbers of the human army.

Tasha: But for every human that fell, their forces got stronger.
DM: That is not really a hard leap of logic to make, and it is exactly that logic that the prince expresses to fear.
Cruroar: By the third day, the messages had already stopped. Well, shit.

Time passes, and Cruroar’s castle approaches completion rapidly. Tasha contemplates sending some of her followers to the front, but they have few practical skills to offer.

DM: You could always send Quirion to the front. He can heal. That will end well.
Tasha: Quirion will stay with us…
DM: “I’ve never SEEN so much blood! This field is SOAKED! It’s like walking in a swamp! How are there so many bones too, holy crap!”
Tasha: “You know the human body contains 260 bones.”
DM: “THIS FIELD CONTAINS 260,000 BONES! Let’s count them!”
Cruroar: Are we in the Mortal Kombat universe, because they’re all shinbones.
DM: All gratuitous femurs.

Brunt is forbidden from discussing Mortal Kombat: Annihilation, which doesn’t exist. This doesn’t stop the rest of the group from discussing it. The DM quickly hauls them out of Street Fighter territory and passes the weeks to the end of the construction. The caravan, chock full of the helpful NPCs that will staff the castle xarrives.

DM: “Caravan on the rise!”
Normilan: What rise? It’s coming out of the ground, oh my god!
Tasha: Someone cast Tenser’s Floating Disc!
DM: Taking note of your nitpicking, the guards resolve to do a poorer job.
Normilan: I have no doubt they would have done that regardless.
Brunt: Once the gate is broken and the horde is pouring in. “Castle’s breached.”
DM: “One of the clock, and it’s not all well.” You see a surprising mass of people marching their way toward your castle.
Eilnys: Is it my dad?!
Normilan: “Archers!”
Brunt: “Give them a volley!”
Eilnys: No, seriously, is it my dad?
Cruroar: Maybe the elves have come to help…

Eilnys does indeed spot her father astride a war mule, a concept that gives the players no end of mirth. Cruroar explains to all the wonders of Bat-Cow.

DM: As they approach they stop just outside the gates. You notice it’s nothing but old men!
Cruroar: (furiously) FIRE!
DM: (wavering old voice) “We set out…. The moment we heard your castle was being constructed…”
Brunt: Eight years ago! Count Cruroar’s hung himself…
Cruroar: Again. Bring the cleric.

They admit the wagons and the NPCs, after slaying several, including the prince’s fiancée, with the malfunctioning portcullis. Cruroar explains he has 100 hidden devices to slay himself in the castle. The DM explains that these are the people who do the routine castle stuff.

Tasha: So from here on out, is it really necessary to do the whole, “Lord Cruroar! There’s someone at the gate! I think it’s a farmer, come to sell his wares!”
Normilan: “You guys want some wheat?”

Brunt lobs a hammer at the guy who’s directing the soldiers, as is traditional. He promptly rolls max damage.

DM: Welp, your butler is dead.
Brunt: He was old.
DM: He was middle-aged!
Cruroar: WHY?!
DM: As he lies there in the middle of the courtyard, his life bleeding out in the middle of the cobblestones… we turn back time, to the world where that didn’t happen.
Cruroar: Thank god!
Brunt: Now: WHO IS HE?!
DM: HOW DO YOU KNOW!?

Cruroar at last approaches, and the butler introduces himself as one Donato Rimbalt.

Normilan: Domo arigato, Mr. Donato…
DM: He’s not a warforged.
Eilnys: Well, he should be.

Cruroar elects to review the staff, while Eilnys and her father reunite with many an ‘ach!’. Cruroar prepares to give the grand tour!

Cruroar: A big energy being appears and begins to saunter around.
DM: Fuck you, Khadgar’s Servant! I’ll just be waiting over here on this landing for fifteen goddamn minutes! Give me my Scryers rep, you asshole.
Brunt: The outsider should be the tour guide. “Here we have the smithy – THE SMITHY OF THE MAD GOD!”
DM: Why is he still here?
Brunt: Because he’s the tour guide!
DM: “THIS IS MY DAY JOB! WORKING FOR THE UNDEAD PAYS POOORLY!”
Cruroar: They intercept our servants and send all their undead equivalents. But they have a perfect Bluff check.

A long detour into Castlevania mockery ends with Brunt smashing walls for turkey. The group heads towards the chapel, although Tasha isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.

Tasha: Huh? Welcome! I mean. “Welcome!”
Cruroar: Ha! Throw the trap banner! You throw it down. It says “Chapel of the Pack”, it just goes down. “Chapel of Satan!”
DM: You’re looking at a girl with a strangely feral appearance despite her otherwise impeccable acolyte’s robes and so forth. She lets out something of a smirk as she bows, it seems to be the closest she can come to actually being polite.
Tasha: “Do we have a problem?”
DM: “Not in the least. Should we? I am here to serve.”
Tasha: “Then serve.”
Cruroar: Why do you have brass knuckles on?!
DM: “I am far from my tribe, but I think you will a fierce acolyte serves better than a mild one.”

Tasha demands and gets credentials, in the form of a writ of assignation. Tasha tries to detect forgery.

Brunt: I can’t throw a hammer at someone, but her temple sends a priestess….
Cruroar: How come we never checked on this Quirion guy?

The acolyte, one Kiric Erisad, cheerfully explains that she knows a firm hand will be expected if they are invaded. That’s apparently a specialty of hers?

Tasha: “So…”

A long pause.

Tasha: “Good.”

Cruroar keeps giving the tour, while the guards have lined up for Brunt’s inspection.

DM: I didn’t name all 50 of them.
Normilan: Well you should have.
DM: I probably should have, but Cruroar only gave me the list right before the game.
Normilan: Random name generator!
Brunt: I walk to the first one in line. “What is your name, soldier?”
DM: “Jim!”
Brunt: The next one in line—
DM: Bob!
Brunt: The next one!
Normilan: Phat X Dope Doggy Dogg.

Brunt determines there is no officer, than attempts to roll Appraise to determine their worth. Adopting Joker methodology, he attempts to have them fight it out for the officer position. Luckily the soldiers all seem competent and eager to prove themselves. Uninterested in this, Cruroar busies himself making demands of Normilan.

Cruroar: I expect your tower to be floating in the air like this over our manor by sundown.
Normilan: Sundown?! Give me a few levels and I’ll see what I can do.

They head over to the wizard’s tower, there to meet the alchemist, the librarian, and the apprentice spellcaster. Normilan is irritated his tower is so crowded.

DM: If it’s any consolation, two of them are hot chicks.
Normilan: Woohoo!
DM: And one of them’s a gnome.
Cruroar: …woo…hoo?
Normilan: I mean I do like gnomes…
Cruroar: All right, we need a good picture here. Hot… gnomes…
DM: Males.
Normilan: Noooo….
Brunt: (looking at the image results) …Stripper garden gnome?
Normilan: Wait, why is there a servants’ quarters in the wizard’s tower?!

Normilan finds that his library has BOOKS now! He’s delighted, eagerly anticipating the joy of poring through them…

Normilan: And they’re all coloring books. NOOOOOOO!
DM: Pre-colored.
Normilan: Why have you forsaken meeeeee!?
DM: THEY WENT OUTSIDE THE LINES!
Normilan: Is there someone overseeing the book shipments?
DM: Yes, that is one of the hot chicks.
Normilan: Woohoo!
DM: This is a finely dressed woman who appears faintly aristocratic if you were any guess at all. Fairly tall, blonde, buxom, and the sort that you wouldn’t expect to be a librarian because she clearly knows how to use her looks to best advantage. As you approach, she dips a curtsey to you. “My lord.”
Normilan: I return the bow. “Normilan Shapeweaver.”
DM: “I am Kaliya.”
Normilan: “What kind of books can we expect to see?”
Eilnys: PORN.
Brunt: I like this library.
DM: “Histories, primarily, but we also have many magical resources here. No actual spells, I’m afraid, but we do have many studies and theories on them. When I heard you were the one here I brought only the best.”
Normilan: “Hmm, thanks for the consideration.”
DM: “Your legacy goes well past simple word-of-mouth.”
Normilan: “Legacy. Hm. Don’t know if I would call it that. I look forward to poring over these. I’m glad to have such a thoughtful person to oversee the library.” Wink.
DM: ‘You said that out loud…’
Normilan: ‘Look, my Charisma’s not that high!”
Cruroar: I knew I forgot one more servant, the guy who follows you around and plays violin music when awkward moments occur!

The players discover Cruroar reneged on the inclusion of a tavern and riot, by which I mean bitch. Normilan’s library is now the singles’ bar, apparently. Donato introduces the alchemist, who is the gnome.

DM: “Rendledrom Mongoldolin, but you can call me ‘Sear’! That’s what the fumes tend to do, and it kind of sticks!”

Brunt makes the DM repeat the gnome’s proper name repeatedly, while Cruroar demands the walls go unscuffed. The players note that once again the DM’s games appear to be turning into Suikoden, and then they meet the apprentice, one Sara Talandrina.

Cruroar: Did I ever get my army of the Valkyries…?
Normilan: “A pleasure. Normilan Shapeweaver.”
DM: As you introduce yourself to her, she practically goes as red in her face as she is in her hair, and quickly sketches a very hurried bow.
Normilan: “…you okay?”
DM: “Oh yes – I’m – perfectly fine!”
Brunt: Keep her away from Quirion.
DM: “There was just such an intense competition for this position. I’m very honored to be learning magic at least in the proximity of you.”
Normilan: “High praise.”
Tasha: What’s her race?
Cruroar: You racist son of a bitch!
DM: As she bowed down you happened to notice that her ears had a bit of a point.
Brunt: Half-elf! Just like you!
Normilan: Like meeeee?!
Brunt: Wait, neither one of you is half-elven now—
DM: That’s not how it works!

Normilan makes small talk with the apprentice, while Cruroar’s thoughts take off in a very strange direction.

Cruroar: Is there an equivalent of cabin fever in D&D?

One situational homosexuality joke later, the DM reassures Cruroar that these men and women were chosen well, though Cruroar is still bothered by his pretty quick transition from peasant boy to Count. An Italian stereotype chef appears despite Brunt’s demands for Cheltonbourne. They pop around to see Eilnys’s father, quite casually. Lurch appears. Perhaps as a mercy, Donato elicits from Cruroar a desire for relatively little formality.

Cruroar: Easy Fridays? I don’t know the term. Not ‘Hey Cruroar’, just ‘Lord’ is fine, nothing too serious…

Listen checks erupt out of nowhere – an argument has erupted in the kitchen!

Cruroar: “Maybe I should’ve gotten three cooks.”
DM: “You needn’t worry about that. This may be a common occurrence, but I assure you there is no hostility in it.”
Cruroar: “That’s good to hear, but let us meet the people who will make us such excellent food. Having rations for the past while, it will be good to have good food.”
DM: Heading over to the kitchens, you hear three different voices who are all arguing over the top of each other, without even seeming to hear each other.
Normilan: Are they the same person?
DM: It’s a three-headed dude!
Cruroar: No! Do not play that! They’re getting one-third the salary! I said three individual cooks!
DM: What if it’s one of those Greek-myth giants where they have three bodies and three heads and they’re all joined at the neck for some reason?
Cruroar: We lock the doors and have a small hatch where they push the food out, because we never want to see that monstrosity, ever!
Tasha: “We are the cooks who say ‘Ni’!”
DM: Stepping into the kitchens, you are confronted by the sight of a halfling, a human, and an elf all arguing with each other without appearing to notice the other ones are arguing.
Normilan: “Do you guys often walk into bars together?”
DM: They appear to be in the process of unpacking their supplies. They seem to have a surprising amount of equipment.
Normilan: “Terra-ganno?” Crazy stuff, man. Peanut noir? All right!
DM: Donato clears his throat, and after a moment the argument subsides. The three chefs turn and seeing you, immediately bow, almost in perfect synch.
Cruroar: “Ah. Yes. I look forward to each of your cooking. Anxious.”
DM: “My lord, may I introduce Marisa Stillwater,” he gestures to the halfling. She bows again as she is introduced. “Wilfric Sherm,” and here the human bows, “and Lasara Theralal. They have worked together for many years.”
Cruroar: “I can hear it. I can hear the…. Fellowship. Between them. Our group argues a lot too, but we get things done, so I expect to see here—“
Normilan: “No we don’t!”
Cruroar: Scroll of Silence! “I’m anxious to see the kind of food from many regions we’ll be enjoying here in the castle… when I’m actually in the castle… enjoying the food here…”
DM: “Just let us get unpacked and we will have a luncheon for you fit for a king.”
Normilan: “Luncheon?! These words!”
Cruroar: “A luncheon. That sounds interesting.”
Normilan: “How is that different from lunch?!”
DM: Lasara speaks up right now. “My lord. Do you have any orders with regards to a standing table?”

A very long pause.

Cruroar: “Yes?”
DM: “Very well, we shall see it done.”
Normilan: WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?
Cruroar: I DON’T KNOW!

The concept of the standing table is explained; it is not a table golem. Cruroar attempts to replace the table golem with animated brooms, leading Normilan to ultimately rename himself as Yen Sid. They head off to meet the animal handler, apparently a half-orc. Or a half Yogg-Saron. Named Vort. His name is mocked for a while.The players argue with the DM if he’s using his jowly voice or not.

Cruroar: He was trying to keep his head perfectly still. He was trying to use the jowly voice without using the jowls.

And so Cruroar has met his crew! His castle is at last a functioning entity!

DM: It is yours. Not the largest castle, but pretty damn decent.
Cruroar: It’s the largest castle I can see… AW WHAT?! WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!
DM: Aladdin shows up.
Normilan: While you’re on the parapets, admiring your castle, I walk out on the balcony of the tower naked. “Aww, time to air the stuff out.”
DM: Three requests for transfers hit your desk at the same time.
Cruroar: “About your wizard’s tower, we’re actually gonna have to set you up in the servant’s quarter for a while…. Had some complaints…”

For some reason, Cut Man appears in the role of Cruroar’s new neighbor. Normilan realizes he’s forgotten what Cut Man’s voice sounded like. Naturally, these considerations sidetrack the game. The PCs assemble for a final conference with Mer’dovich, and apparently Jimmy and Bimmy Lee.

DM: Tasha, you took your eyes off Quirion for a few seconds and he was gone. A few minutes later he came back, rubbing at his jaw. “I really like her.”
Tasha: “Good!”
DM: “I don’t think she likes me, though. Call it a hunch.”
Tasha: “Hopefully you will grow on her. If not you’ll have a tougher jaw.”
DM: “Plenty of fish in the lake! …let’s go get some fish, I’m hungry.”
Tasha: “Why don’t you go get some fish and bring it back for the rest of us?”
DM: “All right!” Quirion heads off for the gate.
Normilan: Welp, he’s dead. Just see his corpse floating in the river.
DM: “Welp, I’m a lake haunt.”

They quickly stop Quirion from going to catch fish, though Normilan realizes his Wisdom is so low he probably ought to be getting involved in shenanigans as well. Mer’dovich warns them that the fortress they seek to assault will be full of uncontrolled undead, who will attack them because they are living creatures. He also gives them a map to follow.

Normilan: It’s an Elder Scroll. “OH MY GOD!”
Brunt: Is it magical? Like wherever we are, there’ll be a little flapping bat over a red dot?
DM: It’s cursed.
Cruroar: He has horrendous artistry though, so it’s drawn like a kindergartener. Crayon marks everywhere. A stick figure of us.
Brunt: A sun in the sky.
Normilan: “Look, I was jonesing for blood, my hand was shaking!”
Cruroar: The sun has glasses on.

They ponder if they should bring Quirion, who has like 20 hit points, while Giles finally pokes his head up online.

DM: “You can’t leave me here! I signed on to go with you! To do what you do! To be your shining spellcasting aide in all situation! I will do whatever it takes to go with you! I will play safe, I will stay back and avoid getting hurt—“
Brunt: “But Quirion, if you come with us, who will ensure Lady Kiric’s safety?”
DM: “I-I’m pretty sure she can do that herself. In fact, I’m REALLY sure of it.”

The characters continue to discuss whether or not to take him, though the DM explains a bit about about how Leadership works. Tasha is horrified.

Tasha: Wait a minute! You’re saying if I just throw away their lives, I get penalties!?
DM: Yeah.
Tasha: What the fuck, dude?!
Normilan and DM: You’re not a Thrallherd.
Normilan: These are people who follow you because you are…
Cruroar: These are not guys who had a loving family, and all of a sudden went, “I love you, sweetie – DRAGON! Hail Dragon!”

Tasha wishes she had gone into Thrallherd instead. The DM flat-out tells Giles to buy a magic weapon.

Giles: Wasn’t I still expecting those magic weapons I requested from the elf king?
DM: It turns out accidentally overthrowing the elven kingdom kind of put you on the list for not getting those.
Giles: Aww, darn.
DM: Yeah, there’s nothing he’d love more right now than to ship you those magic weapons, but considering he’s in durance vile under the effects of the wood elves, he just can’t get off his ass and make them right now.
Giles: Well he’s just a lazy – elf!

The group discusses what to do with their piece of the God-Binding Cross, whether to give it to the vampire for safety or squirrel it away in Normilan’s room. Mer’dovich warns them that the undead were fond of experimentation on the living, and cautions them about ogres and trolls. They do finally agree to let Quirion come, possibly to stop him from discussion his bondage preferences. Eilnys is very clear that he has to listen, while Brunt suggests they leave extra early just to make him do a Bilbo Baggins. The transcriber is accused of being a shameless transcriber, but they are jerks, unlike the handsome and witty transcriber. After a long dessert-caused delay, the night passes and the PCs awaken the next day, bright and early and ready to go. Tasha takes 2 of her soldiers on the trip, Bimmy and Jimmy, and assigns the remaining four to her acolyte.

DM: You come back, their hips are shattered. They are dead.
Tasha: I write a letter to the church. “I’m going to need more followers.”
DM: “Please send a less sexually-voracious cleric, thank you, Tasha.” ‘I never thought I’d be writing those words.’

Cruroar walks away from the castle, refusing to acknowledge his castle collapsing behind him. Normilan bids farewell to his new apprentice, who wishes him the best.

Cruroar: Why couldn’t she slip in something like, “I will miss watching you sleep at night.”
Tasha: “I stole one of your sweaters so I could smell it before I go to bed.”
DM: “Huh, there’s a patch of hair missing, wonder what that’s about.”
Normilan: Come on, my guy isn’t a creep—
Cruroar: This is HER against YOU.
Normilan: Oh.

Fine traveling weather awaits them as they take off in a northerly direction, into wilder terrain as they get into the foothills of fine mountains. Tasha’s relationship with her guards grows increasingly creepy over the space of minutes. A day of travel passes.

DM: You set no watch, and you find in the middle of the night you’ve been robbed.
Cruroar: Of course we set a watch! We even set the rings out, sir! Bam!

Having failed to bring enough mooks to put on watch, they distribute the duties. Normilan whips out his Sphere of Awakening, confusing Tasha.

Normilan: It instantly arouses everybody within 60 feet. (a pause) Arouses from sleep, not just arouses.

Sophomoric humor ensues. As the DM calls for rolls on the night watch, the players bitterly expect Quirion to be gone. Somehow he is not. As they travel the next day, they spot desolation to the south, as inappropriate music sounds.

DM: As the morning becomes noon, you realize it’s becoming oddly hot today.
Normilan: “It’s a bit warm for spring.”
Cruroar: Ah! The sun’s coming down to attack us!
Brunt: Just like in that Mario stage.
DM: Kick a Koopa shell at it. The river is cool and traveling by it provides plenty of opportunity to refresh yourself by it. You notice, according to the map and even more so as you being to approach it at the end of the day, this map has you going through a canyon the river has cut through some particularly large hills.
Normilan: “Huh. AAAAAAAAAH!”
DM: Not – no. No. Not over the side.
Normilan: “I disbelieeeeeeeeeeeeeeve!”

With Survival, Eilnys believes that the river is prone to flash flooding. Cruroar attempts to check his ‘arcane weather tablet’ for a five-day forecast, but has no signal.

Tasha: I’m going to lose my followers in a flash flood.
Brunt: It’ll be just like Oregon Trail.
DM: “We regret eeeeeverything!”
Tasha: “My wife died of dysentery!”
DM: “I shot a buffalo and left 80 pounds of meat to rooooot!”
Normilan: Fuck buffalo… “I’m a fucking banker! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing out here!”

Weirdly, the discussion veers sidelong into the movie Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. Eilnys suspects it will rain the next day, but be clear beyond that. The players hunt for secret moon-runes on their map. Wary of another hurricane incident, they debate a day of pause.

Brunt: If we hang out here, something will attack us. If we go into the canyon, we’ll have to fight a raging torrent.

A ball-gagged Quirion can’t offer his opinion, so they hunker down to wait out the rain. They caulk the wagon and attempt to ford the river.

Cruroar: Welp. Cruroar has dysentery. Cruroar is rolling a Con check to see if he can survive the dysentery. Aaand Cruroar has shit himself to death.
DM: You’re easily able to find a nook you can wedge yourselves into –
Brunt: Uh-oh.
Normilan: Filled with bones.
Brunt: This’ll be the back door to the goblin kingdom.

The night passes without incident to the best of their knowledge, and it begins to rain early in the morning. Indeed, the river floods and looks quite dangerous. The players refuses to actually roleplay, so time passes.

Brunt: “So Normilan.”
Normilan: “Yes?”
Brunt: “Your new apprentice.”
Normilan: “Uh-huh.”
Brunt: “Eh? “
Normilan: “Mmhmm.”
Brunt: “Mmm.”
Normilan: “Yeah, I noticed that too!”
DM: And the day passes suggestively.
Normilan: Both our ribs are bruised from our constant nudging each other.
Brunt: “Tasha. Your understudy… likes it rough?”

The DM skips ahead to fourth watch. Brunt drowns for no apparent reason. Giles hears a faint buzzing!

Normilan: BEES!
Cruroar: No! Not the bees! Not the bees!

Giles casually refuses to use the orb, but he can’t remember anyone’s names so he can choose an order to wake them up in, so he uses the orb after all. Sneaking forward, Giles spies many black-and-yellow flying things in the canyon! Eilnys creeps up in turn to deploy her Knowledge(nature), and identifies them: giant bees! The flood bothered their hive, most likely. The group ponders the use of honey as a distraction.

Normilan: “I’ve heard enough stories about bears and their hunny pots. No thank you!”

The path lies past the bees. Bees aren’t aggressive if they’re not defending their hive, so maybe they can slip past? They angrily shove Brunt into the front of the marching order, leaving Eilnys behind to admire Normilan’s shapely butt. The DM calls on Brunt to make a Balance check; he somehow manages to roll a die point-up on a flat surface.

Brunt: Fail.
Tasha: That’s an 8.
Cruroar: I can’t stop laughing!
DM: At the worst possible time – I determined it randomly, so don’t you guys go giving me that look. Just as you reach where the bees are, a stone shifts violently beneath Brunt’s feet, and he tumbles to his knees in the river, splashing noisily.

The characters spot a place where the cliff has crumbled, revealing the beehive within, oozing honey. Tasha plunges in right behind Brunt, and the bees begin to swarm from all this harassment. Initiative!

Giles: This is gonna suck.
Cruroar: Looks like honey’s back on the menu, boys!
Normilan: Thank god I brought these 200 empty jars with me!
Tasha: Wait a minute, how big are these bees?
Cruroar: About the size of two fists!
DM: About five feet long.
Cruroar: Okay, way more than two fists.
Tasha: So casting Create Water just over their heads –
DM: Will just annoy them, the same thing it does everything you want to cast Create Water over its head!

The DM remembers to ask initiative for the mooks, which shocks the players. Giles readies an action to slash an approaching bee. He promptly gets that chance, critting a bee and dodging it in return. Bees bounce off Brunt’s shield, which everyone finds hilarious. Tasha gets stung, but passes her save. The bees fail to do much, considering their sting is suicidal and no one fails their save. Most of the bees die in short order.

Eilnys: I rolled a natural 1.
Cruroar: What? Hold – hold on.
Normilan: The ground’s kind of cold. Hell froze over.
DM: You lunge forward. A rock twists beneath your feet and you lose your grip on the axe. You watch in horror as it whirls across the river and plunges to its haft in the hive!

The players piss off the transcriber. A mook strikes a final blow on a bee, putting the combat to an end.

DM: And just think, none of this would have happened if they’d just managed to mind their own bee-siness.
Brunt: (groaning)
Normilan: Nope. That’s not even worth a fucking groan.
DM: I didn’t get a reaction out of Normilan? That’s rather bee-zarre.
Brunt: Shut up, Wesley.

The DM ends the night’s session with an awarding of experience, which is pretty decent for their lack of difficulty, and this makes everything better.